CassaStar

by Cavanaugh, Alex J.

  “Sorry, we’re just excited to see you,” he explained. “We thought we’d lost you, Byron.”

  Feeling his confidence return, Byron stood up to his full height. “Felt like I lost me, too.”

  His comment sent a wave of laughter across the room. Byron smiled as well and realized it felt good. He’d not smiled in so long.

  “You did it, Byron!” someone called from the back of the room.

  Byron shrugged. “I just did what was necessary …”

  Hannar’s eyes narrowed. “Byron, it may well end this damn war!”

  “None of us could’ve done it!” Nintal exclaimed in exasperation.

  “Makes you one of the best damn pilots in the fleet.”

  Byron met Larnth’s eyes and realized his squadron leader was serious. Immediately, the sentiment was seconded by everyone in the room. Byron tried to hide his incredulous expression, but his open thoughts gave away his stunned disbelief. Embarrassed and humbled, he lowered his chin.

  Ernx placed his hand on his shoulder in reassurance. The pilot’s fingers tightened and Byron sensed concern.

  Damn, you’re shaking.

  Byron glanced at his hands and saw that he was indeed trembling. Last time I ate was before the mission, he explained, grateful for a legitimate excuse.

  “You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning?” Ernx exclaimed aloud.

  “Damn, let’s get you some food!” Hannar declared, gesturing for the others to clear a path to the door.

  Byron had hoped for a quiet meal in his quarters, but the men had other ideas. They marched him down to the dining hall, still voicing disbelief he’d not eaten for an entire day. The morning meal was just now being served and everyone grabbed a plate of food. Byron discovered an enormous amount of food on his plate when he cleared the line, courtesy of Hannar and Deacer. The dining hall buzzed with conversation as the crowd gazed expectantly at the young pilot. Ernx guided him to an open table and Byron’s squadron gathered protectively around him. Seated at last, he attacked his food with relish.

  His comrades talked among themselves while he ate. Once his hunger was sated, the men began asking questions. A small crowd gathered as he spoke, eager to hear his account of the disrupter core’s destruction. When he asked about the explosion, several officers described the scene in detail. Byron promised he would watch the Sorenthia’s recording of the blast later that day. If the heat hadn’t melted his ship’s recording, that view would be interesting as well.

  Detecting his growing fatigue, Ernx insisted Byron retire to his quarters. Escort in tow, he reached the safety of his room without further delay. Alone at last, he sought the solace of sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  By the evening meal, the full repercussions of his mission began filtering through the fleet. Their disrupter ship destroyed, the Vindicarn had retreated to their home world. The Cassan fleet had pursued their enemy, engaging stragglers and those who still dared to fight. Several neighboring allies had pledged to assist with the decimation of the Vindicarn if they refused to surrender or acknowledge a truce. Regardless of the enemy’s final decision, they would no longer be a threat in this part of the galaxy.

  Byron endured another round of congratulations and answered every imaginable question regarding his flight through the Vindicarn vessel. Flanked at all times by his squadron, he felt secure and handled the attention with grace. The mission hadn’t been about glory, but Byron found he quite liked his new status as a war hero. The men kept him occupied and he was able to put aside the terrible events of the past week.

  Bassa was on his mind when he awoke the following morning, though. Free until that evening, when a victory celebration was scheduled, Byron spent most of the day going through the information in his navigator’s files. He read the various entries and notes and examined each image in depth. Byron wished his friend were alive to share his moment of glory. Bassa’s thoughts and feelings of pride would carry far more meaning than the endless congratulations from his fellow officers.

  Byron donned his best uniform for the evening’s ceremony and celebration. He preferred to remain in his quarters, but his presence was required. After last night, his desire for attention was sated. Reviewing Bassa’s files had reminded him of his original purpose when volunteering for the assignment. Since he’d survived the ordeal, Byron could only assume he was destined for far greater accomplishments. In light of this revelation, he’d decided to abandon his arrogant attitude. It no longer suited him anyway. At any rate, Bassa always preferred humbleness. Byron could now accommodate his friend’s wishes.

  He arrived in the hanger and discovered the cavernous room filled with people. Entering with reluctance, Byron’s presence was noted immediately. Every man on the ship now knew his name and face and his days of obscurity were gone. Smiling in appreciation of the comments that filtered in his direction, Byron moved through the crowd. The warm reception was nice, but he hoped to find a familiar face soon.

  Byron!

  Glancing around, Byron noticed someone moving toward him. Wentar fell in step beside him and smiled.

  Come on!

  He led Byron to their squadron, positioned near the raised platform. The sight of his comrades came as a relief. Ernx and Nintal took up station at his side and someone else retrieved a drink for the young pilot. Byron declined a plate of food, claiming he wasn’t hungry. Now that he was among friends, his anxiety slowly began to subside.

  I thought you enjoyed the spotlight? asked Ernx, resorting to his mental voice in order to be heard over the crowd.

  Scanning the endless sea of faces, Byron shook his head. Not like this. I almost stayed in my quarters.

  “What?!” Ernx exclaimed, almost spilling his drink. “Byron, who do you think this celebration is for?”

  Byron’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  The commander’s call for order penetrated every mind. Larnth prodded the men to assemble as a squadron and Byron glanced around for a place to deposit his glass. He noticed others still holding drinks and plates, and decided to hold the glass at his side. Kernen and his senior officers scanned the crowd from the raised platform, waiting for the noise to settle. When some semblance of silence was achieved, the commander spoke, his voice amplified across the hanger.

  “Men, during this time of war, we have faced a relentless enemy. Many gave their lives in battle. Others sacrificed their mental abilities. Every victory was followed by defeat.”

  The commander paused, his brows pulled together. “However, we just received word that after a brief skirmish over their home world, the Vindicarn have requested a cease fire.”

  His announcement was met with a mighty roar of cheers. Byron turned to Ernx and let loose a triumphant cry. Relief and excitement rippled across the hanger. The war was finally over.

  Kernen allowed the men to revel in the victory. Eventually the cheers subsided. Byron took a quick sip of his drink and flashed Ernx a smile.

  “I cannot say enough about the strength and resiliency of the men serving on the Sorenthia,” the commander announced. “There will be many honors and recommendations bestowed when we return to Cassa. I am proud of this crew and your dedication to the fleet.”

  Kernen glanced to his left and a junior officer stepped forward. The man held a small box in his hands. Returning his gaze to the crowd, the commander lifted his chin.

  “The Five Star Medal of Honor is awarded to those whose contributions affect the very course of Cassan society,” he stated with authority, his eyes narrowed. “It exemplifies bravery, excellence, and the ability to rise above adversity, regardless of the sacrifice required. Tonight, we have an officer present whose actions more than qualify.

  “Officer Byron, step forward.”

  Byron almost dropped the glass at his side. He’d expected a word of thanks and praise from the commander, but not the highest honor the fleet could bestow. Byron’s whole body froze and he stared at the commander in disbelief.

  B
yron! Ernx exclaimed.

  He felt someone remove the glass from his hand. A gentle shove from behind propelled Byron forward. Moving in a daze, he stepped out of the crowd and approached the platform. His feet felt as if made of lead and he all but stumbled up the steps. Byron came to an abrupt halt in front of Kernen. The commander’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but only genuine pride exuded from his thoughts.

  Kernen nodded at the officer holding the box. Byron cast a sideways glance as he approached. The young man flipped open the dark case, revealing the elaborate, five-pointed medal. Inlaid with golden crystals, the large emblem hung from a short, thick ribbon. The Cassan symbol was embroidered on a background of yellow and gold, and the medal’s shape mirrored that proud symbol. It was truly a thing of beauty.

  Averting his eyes, Byron realized the commander was awaiting his full attention. Straightening his back, he stood erect and clasped his hands to his sides.

  “Officer Byron, your actions, above and beyond the call of duty, have directly affected the outcome of this war,” Kernen declared in his most formal voice. “You were the only pilot capable of performing the mission successfully. Your unique ability was crucial, but so were your skills as a pilot. You were willing to volunteer for this mission and executed it with precision just days after the loss of your navigator, Officer Bassa. That speaks volumes of your character as well as your skill.

  “Officer Byron,” the commander said, turning to retrieve the medal. “It is with great honor that I present you with the Five Star Medal of Honor.”

  Byron’s eyes were on the medal as Kernen raised it to his chest. Breath held to hide the tremble running through his body, Byron’s gaze returned to Kernen as the commander pinned the medal on his uniform. The man completed his task and stepped back to give Byron a proper salute. He returned the gesture and Kernen nodded.

  The crowd broke into spontaneous cheers and applause. Byron felt his face flush with embarrassment as the noise continued to grow in strength. He remained rooted to the spot, afraid to face the Sorenthia’s crew. The commander flashed him an encouraging smile.

  Turn around, Officer Byron, he thought. You’ve faced far worse than this.

  Clenching his fists, Byron slowly pivoted. The men had surged forward and now crowded around the stage. Feeling incredibly humble, he took a deep breath and searched the crowd for a familiar face. Locating his squadron, Byron finally permitted a smile to cross his lips. Their antics far surpassed that of the other officers.

  Those closest to the stairs gestured for him to descend. Feeling apprehensive, Byron rejoined the crowd. He was buffeted with congratulations and words of praise and thanks. Every man had to touch the newly decorated pilot, as if to verify he was real. It was almost ten minutes before Hannar reached him and pulled Byron to safety.

  With good food and drink available, the men reveled in their celebrations. Someone brought Byron a plate of food, but he had little opportunity to consume it, as those nearby asked endless questions. Still in shock, he answered in as few words as possible. When entering the fleet, Byron had wanted to be the best pilot. He’d envisioned great glory and standing proud before his peers. Now that he held that honor, he felt only humility.

  After a while, Byron needed a break from the attention. Edging toward a side door, he informed Ernx he’d return in a moment. Before anyone could stop him, Byron darted into the hallway and entered the nearest telepod. He could not vanish for long, but he desperately needed a few moments to clear his head. Contemplating his destination, Byron selected the last place his friends would consider.

  Exiting the telepod, he was pleased to discover the corridor empty. Moving with haste, Byron slipped unnoticed into the hydroponics bay. Strolling down the familiar, winding path, he came upon the bench where he and Bassa had shared many moments. Taking a seat at one end of the bench, he leaned forward. The silence was peaceful and he felt the confusion in his mind recede.

  Glancing at his chest, Byron reached for the medal. His fingers brushed the ribbon, the material silky to the touch. He held it up for inspection and determined the medal was indeed real. Byron considered the honor and wondered what he could possibly do to top this achievement. He had nothing left to prove as a fighter pilot.

  Officer Byron?

  Startled by the voice in his head, Byron released the medal and glanced down the path. The commander watched from a curve in the path and Byron rose to his feet at once. Kernen smiled as he approached.

  “At ease, son,” he instructed, gesturing for Byron to return to his seat. “May I join you for a moment?”

  “Yes, sir, of course!” Byron replied.

  Leaning back, Kernen smiled at Byron and cocked one eyebrow. “You do realize that ceremony will be repeated again on Cassa with our high commander?”

  Byron grimaced, “Yes, sir, I suspected as much,” he conceded, clasping his hands together. “And sir? Thank you. I still can’t believe it.”

  “The moment the news came through regarding the cease-fire, I contacted our high commander,” Kernen informed him. “He recommend the Five Star Medal before I even made the suggestion. You earned that honor, Byron.”

  Glancing again at his medal, Byron considered his response with care. “I didn’t earn it by myself, sir.”

  Raising his gaze, Byron met Kernen’s eyes and saw quiet understanding. He felt his chest tighten as he contemplated Bassa’s numerous sacrifices. His friend had worked so hard to get Byron to this point. Bassa deserved the medal even more.

  “You brought him peace, Byron.”

  The commander’s gentle but affirming words tugged at his heart. Byron managed a weak smile.

  Draping an arm across the back of the bench, Kernen cleared his throat. “What are your plans, Officer Byron? Will you remain on the Sorenthia or seek other opportunities? There’s not a commander in the fleet that would turn away a fighter pilot with your qualifications.”

  “Sir, I …” began Byron. Leaning further forward, he closed his eyes. “Sir, I’m going to request a reassignment to Exploration.”

  “Exploration?”

  “Yes, sir. Exploration was Bassa’s dream. The night before he died, I told him when the war ended, we’d pursue a career in Exploration instead. Now that the war’s over, I intend to keep my promise.”

  “Son,” the commander began in a patient voice, “don’t do it just because of an obligation.”

  Byron leaned back and lifted his chin. “Sir, I’m not flying with anyone else. I can’t. I thought I wanted the glory and prestige that goes with being a fighter pilot, but it’s lost its appeal now. I’ve nothing left to prove, especially to myself.

  “I want to do this for Bassa, and more importantly, for me. I’m ready to live my own life now.”

  Kernen continued to gaze at Byron, as if contemplating his words. A smile crept across his face and the commander inclined his head.

  “The choice is yours, Byron. And I have no doubt you will achieve great success in the endeavor.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Rising to his feet, the commander straightened his jacket. Byron stood up as well, his body at attention.

  “I hope you will rejoin the celebration, Officer Byron,” said Kernen, eyeing the young man expectantly.

  “Yes, sir, I will return momentarily.”

  Satisfied with his response, the commander departed. Alone once more, Byron closed his eyes and allowed the peaceful silence fill his mind. The stillness reflected the serenity in his heart. He’d made the right decision.

  He turned to leave, but paused after taking a few steps. Byron’s gaze returned to the bench and he envisioned Bassa residing in the spot the commander had just vacated. His friend’s smiling face and thoughts of understanding and acceptance toward his troublesome pilot brought comfort and filled him with hope. He would hold on to that sensation as long as he lived, too.

  “You knew all along,” he whispered. “I will be all right, my brother.”

  Taking a deep bre
ath, Byron turned to rejoin the celebration.

  About The Author

  Alex J. Cavanaugh has a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree and works in web design and graphics. He is experienced in technical editing and worked with an adult literacy program for several years. A fan of all things science fiction, his interests range from books and movies to music and games. Currently the author lives in the Carolinas with his wife.

  http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com